


Damn You're Sexy When You're Jealous

by Lhugy_for_short



Series: Lhugy's Kinktober 2018 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Gladio loves when Prom wears his clothes, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possessive!Prompto, Post-Game, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: A new recruit to the Glaives can't seem to take a hint, no matter how hard Prompto tries to stake his claim on Gladio.





	Damn You're Sexy When You're Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr: _Prompto is jealous because a cute glaive keeps flirting with gladio as if prompto doesn’t exist. He takes to wearing Gladio’s things around the citadel - especially if he’s walking through the training areas or the places where glaives are known to hang out. Gladio is ridiculously turned on by his feisty lil boyfriend wearing his things and asserting his dominance._
> 
> For Day 2 of Kinktober (not following any specific prompts)

This first day it happens, Prompto brushes it off as a fluke. The guy is new, a fresh recruit to the Kingsglaive and still learning his place. There’s no way he could know that his buff, rugged trainer, the one he’s been so obviously eyeing all morning, is very much taken.  _ Married _ , even, hence the hefty titanium ring on his finger that matches Prompto’s own.

But he gets it, he really does. Gladio is  _ hot, _ even at thirty-three - or perhaps especially at thirty-three - and there’s no denying the effect those bulging muscles or the raw power of his voice has on anyone in close range. He gets it, so he lets it slide. 

The second time it happens, Prompto is less forgiving. Walks right up to his husband in the middle of practice and slides a hand ( _ almost casually _ ) into the back of his sweatpants. Gladio hardly notices, but that kid sure does. Prompto regards him with a smile ( _ almost friendly _ ) before planting a big, wet kiss on full lips and striding back to his post. 

Understandably, he thought that would be the end of it. 

Yet the very next week, while both his and Gladio’s units are out training in the field, he turns to catch Mr. Can’t-Take-a-Hint at it again. The kid’s practically swooning right into Gladio’s arms, wearing such a sickly sweet fuck-me smile that Prompto only barely manages to keep from using him as easy target practice. As it is, he drops his (thankfully not loaded) rifle onto the ground and storms off the grounds, leaving his garrison - and his poor, hapless husband - alone in his wake. 

He makes his reappearance later that afternoon. The fresh recruits are back in the training hall, sharing a much-needed break before their final sparring session of the day. Gladio is there, too, of course, swamped by a crowd of talkative young Glaives and that no-good little flirt himself. 

Prompto is all grins as he approaches. 

“Hey, you guys miss me?” 

A few of the Glaives startle, then snap into salutes. “C-Captain Argentum, sir! Welcome back.” 

“At ease,” Gladio snorts. “Hey, Prom. I was just telling these guys about….” 

His words turn to a lump in his throat. Amber eyes grow wide as they take in the sight before him - pale arms, lean and dotted with the freckles he knows so well; that slender neck, exposed right down the collarbones where the stretched-out line of the tank top he’s wearing dips low. His gaze travels further south to the hem, which hangs just above mid-thigh and frames the perfect outline of Prompto’s legs in tight black jogging pants. 

_ Skin.  _ So much skin, and those pants leave almost nothing to the imagination. Gladio, in fact, doesn’t have to imagine very hard at all to know  _ exactly _ what lies beneath the skimpy outfit. An outfit which, once his brain manages to collect enough blood to form a fleeting thought, he realizes doesn’t even belong to Prompto. 

“Is...that my shirt?” 

Bright blue eyes mirror his obvious interest. “Yeah. Hope you don’t mind. I grabbed it off the floor without even thinking.” His laugh is shy, secretive - and very  _ very  _ fake. “Y’know, with all the rest of your clothes from last night?”

Gladio is having trouble following. He’s pretty sure that shirt was buried somewhere at the bottom of the dresser, old and too worn for much else but housework…. But then Prompto moves his arm and he catches a glimpse of pink nipple beneath the fabric, and suddenly he doesn’t see much need to argue. 

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course, babe.” 

_ It’s working _ , Prompto smirks to himself. Some of the Glaives are exchanging knowing looks, others are rolling their eyes and nudging one another. But  _ him _ \- that persistent skank of a newbie - is fuming. Cheeks red, arms crossed tight over his chest, he’s glaring at Prompto as if he could burn a hole through him with nothing more than his eyes. 

Prompto winks at him even as Gladio’s hand finds its way to his lower back. 

“Think you guys can handle the first few matches on your own tonight?” comes his voice, rougher and lower than usual. “I gotta, uh. Do some laundry. Married life, you know how it is.” 

“Sure, boss,” one of the older Glaives grins in return. “Laundry.” 

“Laundry,” Gladio confirms, and whisks Prompto out into the hall and upstairs to their Citadel suite faster than Little-Mister-Rejection can pick his jaw up off the floor. 

That night, as Prompto (still wearing the old shirt) climbs onto Gladio’s lap, he makes a point to hold his husband’s attention. Locks his gaze with burning amber and lowers himself achingly slow down onto that thick, familiar cock. Gasps as prettily as he’s ever done, and watches the pleasure ripple out across Gladio’s skin in waves. 

_ Mine _ \- blue eyes reign him in. 

_ Mine _ \- thin fingers grasp for purchase. 

_ Mine _ \- nails digging deliciously into bronzed flesh. 

Beneath him, Gladio groans his agreement. 

_ Yours _ , he says as he bucks up into Prompto’s perfect heat. 

_ Yours _ , comes the strained promise in the back of his throat, nerves overwhelmed with lust. 

_ I’m all yours _ , and his release deep inside seals his undying love. 


End file.
